


Pretzels

by meils121



Category: Leverage
Genre: Cooking, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: Eliot teaches Parker how to make pretzels on a rainy Tuesday morning.The fact that it’s raining has little to do with pretzels and plenty to do with Parker trailing after Eliot as he heads to the brew pub’s kitchen and pulling out cookbook after cookbook until Eliot gets annoyed with the mess and asks what she’s looking for.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90
Collections: The Leverage Exchange Master Collection





	Pretzels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreaming_in_Circles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/gifts).



Eliot teaches Parker how to make pretzels on a rainy Tuesday morning. 

The fact that it’s raining has little to do with pretzels and plenty to do with Parker trailing after Eliot as he heads to the brew pub’s kitchen and pulling out cookbook after cookbook until Eliot gets annoyed with the mess and asks what she’s looking for. 

“Pretzels.” Parker says, and she’s got a frown on her face, the one she gets when one of her ideas isn’t quite working out the way she wanted it to. That’s puzzling enough. The pretzel piece, though - 

Sophie had told Eliot a while back about pretzels and Parker and Hardison and conversations that some people found easy and other people were terrified of. Recently, though, Parker and Hardison had approached Eliot together. Pretzels were mentioned in that conversation, too, a convoluted metaphor about the three parts of a pretzel’s shape and the three of them and a brief interlude to discuss the best pretzel dips. It had ended with kisses, though, and Eliot can’t say he minds that part. He likes it a lot, actually.

“Why do you want pretzels?”

Parker glances up from the cookbook in her hands (it’s written in Thai, and while Parker continually surprises him, he’s fairly certain that she doesn’t speak that particular language and won’t find what she’s looking for in that cookbook anyways). 

“I don’t know.” She says. “I mean, I do know, but I don’t. It just - it feels right. I think Hardison is sad and maybe this will make him feel better.”

Eliot pauses and thinks to the night before, when Hardison had shut himself off from them insisting that a new video game had just been released. He did seem a little down. He feels a little guilty that he didn’t pick up on that. 

“Okay.” He says, and reaches for the cookbook on the highest shelf. It’s tattered and covered in splotches from when batter dripped and spilled. It’s his favorite cookbook, the one that he’s carried with him for a long time, and maybe it does mean something that there’s a recipe for pretzels in it.

Pretzels are not an overly complicated thing to make. The hardest part is convincing Parker that the dough does, in fact, need to rise. It’s only for ten minutes, and Eliot makes a silent note to himself never to bake regular bread with her. 

It turns out that Parker’s a half-way decent baker, even if her pretzels are shaped a little more like Mickey Mouse than actual pretzels. Eliot shows her how to dunk them in boiling water and baking soda and agrees that half of the pretzels should, in fact, have cinnamon sugar sprinkled on them instead of salt. 

Hardison wanders into the kitchen just as they are finishing the last few pretzels. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” He says. Eliot takes in the other man. He’s tired, Eliot thinks, the sort of tired that comes from the knowledge of what they do and has little to do with Hardison getting enough sleep.

“We’re baking.” Parker says. She frowns. “Or cooking? I forget which is which. Why does it even matter?”

They’ve had this discussion before. “Baking.” Eliot says, because he doesn’t think explaining the difference again really matters right now. “We made pretzels.”

The look on Hardison’s face suggests he doesn’t miss the significance. “How come?” He asks, wandering closer. Eliot hands Parker her cinnamon sugar covered pretzel and goes for salted pretzels for himself and Hardison.

Parker has apparently been thinking about this since Eliot asked earlier. “We’re pretzels.” She says. “And - pretzels make me happy. We make me happy. And you looked sad yesterday so I thought we should do something to make you happy.”

Hardison slings an arm over Parker’s shoulder. “Thanks, babe.” He says. He doesn’t try to argue and say he’s not sad. “I think it’s all just getting to me.”

Eliot nods, because he gets that. 

“Well.” Parker says, that same frown on her face as she puzzles through Hardison’s statement. “That means pretzels and blanket forts and no jobs for a while, right?”

“Yeah.” Hardison says. “I think that sounds about right.”

Parker nods. “We can do that.” She says. “Right, Eliot?”

“Yeah, of course.” Eliot says, because he could use a break too if he’s being honest.

Parker smiles and reaches her hand out for Eliot, tugging him into a hug with all three of them. Eliot’s pretty sure she’s getting cinnamon in his hair but he can’t bring himself to care. Pretzels were a good idea, he thinks, in more way than one.


End file.
